


start shaking at the thought

by cuttothequickk



Series: makedamnsure [6]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Hangover, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Nausea, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttothequickk/pseuds/cuttothequickk
Summary: Izaya cracks his eyes open to look up at Shizuo, and Shizuo offers a small smile, the best he can do when his head feels like this.“God, I think I’m actually still drunk,” Izaya groans, his eyes falling closed again. Shizuo huffs a laugh and looks at the clock. It’s only 7:30 a.m. They have a long day ahead of them.





	start shaking at the thought

**Author's Note:**

> why is this series like this
> 
> idk but pls enjoy

Shizuo wakes up with a pounding headache, his bladder full and urging him out of bed, especially with the weight of Izaya’s arm slung low over his abdomen. The intricacies of Izaya’s body are familiar enough by now that Shizuo can tell the flea is already awake; he always is by the time Shizuo rejoins the land of the living, and Shizuo takes some comfort in the knowledge that he won’t wake Izaya when he climbs out of bed to stumble down the hall to the bathroom.

 

Izaya lets out a frustrated groan as Shizuo sits up, and Shizuo tries to ignore how awful he feels as he lets out a weak chuckle. Izaya opens bleary eyes to meet Shizuo’s gaze, shifting onto his back and tugging the covers up so they cover half his face.

 

“Be right back,” Shizuo says, trying to push back the nausea threatening to bring up whatever is left in his stomach after he made himself puke in Izaya’s shower last night. He manages to push himself out of bed and onto his feet, too hungover to feel any embarrassment over the fact that, yeah, he totally made himself puke in Izaya’s shower last night. He makes it to the bathroom and back to bed without puking now, though, so he counts that as a win and collapses back onto the bed, the once-comforting heat of the covers now oppressive and sickening.

 

“Fuck,” Shizuo groans, and Izaya growls his agreement.

 

“I have to pee,” Izaya complains, still huddled under the covers, and Shizuo pushes himself onto his side just enough to press a hand to Izaya’s forehead because fuck, Izaya is practically vibrating out of his skin.

 

“It’s fine. This always happens when I’m hungover,” Izaya says, struggling up so he’s sitting with his knees to his chest. He lets out a moan that says he feels at least as sick as Shizuo does, maybe worse—after all, they drank the same amount, and Izaya is a lot smaller than Shizuo.

 

Shizuo lets his hand drop to the bed as Izaya climbs over him and stands up, swaying enough that Shizuo almost sits up to try and steady him. But Izaya just rests a palm against the wall and staggers into the bathroom, leaving Shizuo to stare up at the ceiling until it spins too much and he has to close his eyes.

 

He feels more than hears Izaya come back, Izaya collapsing onto the bed next to Shizuo without getting under the covers. The curtains are closed, so the room is dim but navigable, dust motes visible in the air as they swirl around near the ceiling that won’t stop spinning. If Shizuo keeps his eyes closed and ignores the heat, he almost feels like he isn’t hungover, and he thinks he can make it through the day as long as he doesn’t have to shift out of this position.

 

“Fuck, we should’ve gotten water before going to bed last night,” Izaya mumbles into the comforter. They’re both squished together right on the edge of the bed, each unwilling to climb all the way over into the center of the too-big mattress because that would take too much effort, and Shizuo opens his eyes and tilts his head just enough to see that Izaya is curled up right next to his side and just under his stretched out right arm, dark hair brushing Shizuo’s bare ribs as Izaya keeps shaking.

 

He looks so pitiful trembling and huddled up that Shizuo forces himself out of bed and into the bathroom in search of a cup to fill. There’s one sitting by the sink, and he lets the water run for a few seconds until it gets cold and then fills up the cup.

 

When he reenters the bedroom, Izaya has stretched out a little bit, and he looks fucking terrible. He’s limp but still trembling, looking small and vulnerable, as if he’s scared of how bad he feels. His eyes are shut tight in a wince when Shizuo reenters the room, but they flicker open into a wide-eyed look of panic for a moment when Shizuo sets the water on the nightstand to collapse onto the covers.

 

“Sorry,” Shizuo rasps, “Was gonna puke if I stayed standing any longer,” he says, tilting his head against the sheets so he can see Izaya. “You okay?”

 

The look of panic has receded, but in its place is an expression of pain. It almost looks like Izaya’s going to cry.

 

“Just—can’t fall back to sleep,” Izaya says. “Everything hurts,” he manages.

 

Shizuo makes it a point not to nod in order to save his pounding head a bit of extra grief. “I think I can get painkillers from the bathroom in a few minutes. Just let me stop spinning,” he says, glad that one of his feet remains on the floor from where he fell ungracefully onto the bed earlier. They’re both lying across the mattress at strange angles now, nowhere near the middle, but Shizuo’s sure neither of them has the energy to fix that nor even to care. He wants to slide closer to Izaya, pull the small, too-thin body into his own, calm the shivers still wracking Izaya’s frame, press tired kisses to the back of the flea’s neck. But he wants to get Izaya some painkillers more, something that will sooth his pain from inside his body, and so instead Shizuo stays as still as he can, waiting for the strength to get up again.

 

After about five minutes of silence, Shizuo thinks he can make it to the bathroom and back. He presses himself up into a sitting position and manages to reach out and stroke light fingers down Izaya’s side. Izaya cracks his eyes open to look up at Shizuo, and Shizuo offers a small smile, the best he can do when his head feels like this.

 

“God, I think I’m actually still drunk,” Izaya groans, his eyes falling closed again. Shizuo huffs a laugh and looks at the clock. It’s only 7:30 a.m. They have a long day ahead of them.

 

“Goin’ for painkillers,” Shizuo manages, lifting himself to his feet and stumbling into the master bathroom once again. He has to dig through a couple of cupboards and a medicine cabinet before he finds something that probably won’t destroy their livers too terribly what with all the alcohol that’s definitely still being filtered out of their veins, and when he finally has the bottle of little white tablets in hand, he stumbles back to the bedroom and falls into bed, intentionally landing a little closer to Izaya this time.

 

Izaya’s eyes manage to open again. Shizuo meets his gaze with a tired flutter of eyelashes and grins lightly. “Hi,” he says, and it’s soft and breathy, low enough that it shouldn’t hurt Izaya’s head too much. Izaya’s lips quirk up, but Shizuo can see how much effort is behind the expression, how hard it is for Izaya to hold his lips in this tired semblance of a smile. Shizuo reaches out and traces his fingers down Izaya’s cheek.

 

“Relax, ‘Zaya. You don’t have to force a smile for me,” Shizuo says, only realizing how weirdly sentimental it sounds after the words have already passed through the air between them. Izaya’s face slides back into its partly blank, mostly pained expression, and Shizuo’s brow furrows, concern welling up in his chest.

 

“Hold on. I gotta get the water and the painkillers,” Shizuo says, waiting another 30 seconds for a bout of dizziness to pass before finally sitting up and using the items he worked so hard to retrieve. He takes three of the tablets with a swallow of water, trying not to drink too much in case it makes him feel sick again. Once that’s done, he considers Izaya’s prone form and wonders what he can do to make this whole thing easier.

 

“I’m gonna help you sit up now, okay?” Shizuo asks. Izaya sighs out a hum of agreement, and Shizuo leans down to wrap his arms around Izaya so he’s cradling him, a strong hand moving to support the back of Izaya’s head. Izaya whimpers into Shizuo’s chest, a sound of gratitude rather than pain, and Shizuo smiles into Izaya’s hair and maneuvers them so they’re sitting up at the edge of the bed, Shizuo taking almost all of Izaya’s weight, black hair resting against his shoulder and tickling his throat.

 

“Here,” Shizuo says, shaking out three tablets and handing them over to Izaya, who at least manages to take them and raise them to his lips. Shizuo hands him the cup of water then, and Izaya raises his head just long enough to swallow, his head falling back to Shizuo’s shoulder as soon as he’s handed the now-empty cup back.

 

“More water,” Izaya murmurs. “Please, Shizu-chan.”

 

“Wait a little while, flea,” Shizuo murmurs back. “It’ll make you sick if you drink too much of it, and I want the painkillers to actually help instead of you just throwing them up.”

 

Izaya makes a small noise of protest, but he just nuzzles his face into the hollow of Shizuo’s throat and drapes an arm across Shizuo’s lap. Shizuo presses a hand to Izaya’s head to hold it against his shoulder as he lays them down across the bed, their legs too tired to tangle but still pressed together hard. Izaya is still trembling, but after a few minutes it starts to get a little less violent, a little more sporadic, and as Shizuo drifts off, he thinks maybe Izaya has stopped shaking entirely, finally comfortable in Shizuo’s arms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Shizuo awakes for the second time, Izaya isn’t with him. He misses the closeness if not the heat, because it’s actually really fucking hot in Izaya’s bedroom; a glance at the clock reveals that it’s past 11:00 now, and Shizuo’s head is pounding again so he figures he probably woke up because the painkillers wore off. He’s hesitant to take more, considering how shot his liver must be right now, but sitting up proves dizzying enough that he shakes out two more pills and swallows them dry.

 

The cup isn’t sitting on the nightstand anymore, and Shizuo’s mouth is dry enough that he figures another trip to the bathroom is worth however bad he’ll feel standing up—and of course there’s the matter of trying to find Izaya. Remembering how bad he looked earlier, Shizuo figures the flea can’t have made it too far, maybe into the shower or even a bath, so he staggers over to the door and pushes his way into the absurdly large space.

 

Izaya isn’t in the shower stall or the giant bathtub next to it; he’s not standing by the sink, not even lying on the floor or something. Shizuo frowns and turns on the faucet so it runs cold, splashing water onto his face and then gulping down a few swallows, just enough to quench the thirst but not so much that he starts to feel sick. When he straightens, he actually feels a little bit more coherent, maybe not quite capable of going down to the kitchen quite yet, but with a few more hours of sleep, he’ll probably be able to at least cook Izaya some rice to help settle his stomach.

 

There’s a retching sound from the small room off the main bathroom where the toilet is, and Shizuo summons the strength to go grab the softest blanket from the bed, wet a cloth with cool water, and fill Izaya’s abandoned cup with water before he pushes open the door to the room where Izaya is throwing up nothing into the toilet bowl, hair a mess of sweat and sticking to his cheeks and forehead, his body shaking as he clutches the sides of the toilet and heaves.

 

Shizuo collapses on the floor next to Izaya and leans himself against the wall, still feeling too shitty to help much besides cushioning the floor behind Izaya with the blanket and setting the cup of water down beside them where it hopefully won’t get knocked over. Izaya’s heaves finally subsides, and Shizuo leans forward to press the cool cloth to the back of Izaya’s neck. Izaya coughs a couple more times and spits into the toilet bowl, his hand finding the water Shizuo set beside him and raising it so he can swish some around in his mouth and spit it out into the toilet bowl as well.

 

“C’mere,” Shizuo says, moving his legs so Izaya can fit between them and dragging the smaller of them back into his chest, Izaya’s head dropping back to rest against Shizuo’s shoulder. Shizuo pulls the wet washcloth out from under Izaya’s neck and pushes hair off Izaya’s forehead, pressing the cloth there instead and smiling a little bit when Izaya sighs in relief. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Izaya manages to whisper, his hands resting limp across his lap. Shizuo reaches out to pull the delicate fingers of Izaya’s left hand into his much larger one, stilling the trembling that won’t seem to leave Izaya’s body. “Couldn’t sleep. Drank too much water. You told me not to.”

 

Shizuo huffs out a soft laugh. “It’s always the water that gets you.”

 

Izaya shifts to press his face into Shizuo’s throat. “Yeah. You said. I didn’t listen.”

 

Shizuo doesn’t say anything. He tilts his head in to press a kiss to Izaya’s temple, just left of the cloth still resting across Izaya’s forehead, and Izaya shudders a little harder. “You gonna throw up again?” Shizuo asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

 

“Maybe,” Izaya says. “Wait another few minutes. Don’t leave,” he says, clearly a little bit overwhelmed if he’s actually asking for Shizuo to stay here and see Izaya in this state of vulnerability.

 

He doesn’t want to take advantage, but a memory from last night in the shower is pressing at him, pressing not with morbid curiosity but just with wonder, and concern maybe, and with the hope that maybe he can somehow help. And so, collapsed in a heap on the floor of Izaya’s bathroom at almost noon with the worst hangover Shizuo can ever remember, he takes a breath and speaks.

 

“Izaya,” he starts, voice just a whisper, Izaya breathing steady against his neck.

 

“Yeah,” Izaya says, and something in his voice says he knows what Shizuo is going to say, and he’s actually maybe okay with it.

 

“I…um, ‘fingers down your throat,’ last night, I…” Shizuo trails off, his hand clutching at Izaya’s fingers a little bit tighter.

 

Izaya huffs a breath and Shizuo feels it flit across his collarbones. “I didn’t do that this time,” he says—unnecessarily, because for whatever reason, Shizuo knows that Izaya’s most recent bout of vomiting wasn’t the flea’s own doing.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Shizuo says, hoping maybe the words will reassure him a little bit.

 

Izaya tucks his chin down. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re probably right.”

 

Shizuo wraps the arm currently trailing along the floor around Izaya in a gentle hold around his chest that shouldn’t upset the informant’s stomach. “How often?”

 

Izaya pulls his legs up so he’s sitting sideways against Shizuo’s chest, his legs arched up over Shizuo’s left leg. “Not often.”

 

Shizuo tucks his nose down further into Izaya’s hair. “Why?”

 

Izaya waits a long time before answering, so long that Shizuo thinks he might not say anything at all. Finally: “I don’t know.”

 

The weird thing is, Shizuo believes him. Izaya feels so small and fragile in his arms, and he took so long to respond, like he was really trying to figure out the answer to a question he’s asked himself before and still come up blank, a question that maybe doesn’t even have an answer. “Okay,” Shizuo says. “But if you ever want to tell me what you were thinking when you were trying to figure it out, you can.”

 

“Later,” Izaya says, and it takes Shizuo a second to realize he might actually mean it, that the word isn’t just a dismissal but a promise, and one that Shizuo really hopes he keeps. “You?” Izaya asks.

 

Shizuo’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

 

Izaya takes a breath. “You’ve never done that. But…other stuff. I don’t know.”

 

Shizuo sighs. “The smoking isn’t enough as far as self-destructive behavior goes?”

 

Izaya shrugs. “I guess you’re self-destructive in a lot of ways.”

 

This makes Shizuo freeze a little bit. “Are you?”

 

Izaya actually manages a short laugh. “I’m not bulimic, Shizuo. I said I didn’t do it often. Like, practically ever. I just…have. Sometimes.”

 

Shizuo brings the hand not clutching Izaya up to run through Izaya’s dark hair. “Other stuff. I don’t know,” he echoes. Izaya tenses. “You can tell me later. Or never. It’s okay,” Shizuo says.

 

Izaya breathes for a few minutes. “Yeah. There’s other stuff.” His tone says that even if he reveals this, he won’t be revealing anything else, at least not right now. Shizuo finds that he actually doesn’t mind. He’ll find out later, or not at all. He would rather Izaya come to him than force the flea into saying anything, especially when Izaya is so hungover he can hardly keep his head up.

 

After a few more minutes have gone by, Izaya yawns. “I’m not going to throw up again,” he says, voice a little steadier. “I might need more painkillers, though.”

 

“Okay,” Shizuo says, situating an arm under Izaya’s knees and standing upright so he’s carrying Izaya bridal style. Izaya doesn’t protest, just wraps an arm up around Shizuo’s neck so he can keep himself steady, and Shizuo somehow manages the way-too-long walk into the bedroom and sets his companion gently on the sheets, helping him take two more painkillers and then collapsing into bed next to him, Izaya’s back to Shizuo’s chest and Shizuo curled around him tight, keeping him comfortable and safe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Shizuo awakes again, it’s nearly 2:30. Izaya is dozing beside him, his eyes closed and his breathing steady, and Shizuo feels decent enough that he thinks he can maybe manage to make some rice for the two of them. A little bit of food and more water can only do them good by this point, Shizuo thinks, and he sits up slowly, careful not to jostle Izaya.

 

Once he’s standing, though, Shizuo realizes he might have overestimated himself. Everything is still hazy, no longer spinning but definitely still disorienting in some weird, sort of nauseating way, and Shizuo sits back down on the bed and buries his head in his hands. The motion wakes Izaya, and he groans and sits up, his hand coming to rest on Shizuo’s hunched shoulder.

 

“You okay?” Izaya asks, leaning most of his weight to rest against Shizuo’s back.

 

Shizuo swallows. “Yeah. I thought I could make us some rice, but apparently I was really underestimating the power of this fucking hangover.”

 

Izaya manages a drowsy laugh against the back of Shizuo’s neck. “Yeah, sitting up just now was a mistake,” he says, one hand clutching at Shizuo’s shoulder. “What time is it?”

 

Shizuo looks at the clock. “2:47,” he reads, wanting to lie back down but unwilling to shift Izaya’s position too dramatically.

 

Izaya hums. “Almost 3:00. Guess I should be kicking you out soon, hmm?”

 

Shizuo groans and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve got 13 minutes, don’t I?”

 

Izaya must finally summon the strength to carefully lay himself back against the sheets, and Shizuo immediately collapses onto the pillow next to him, not even bothering to pull his legs and feet back onto the mattress.

 

“Go back to sleep, Shizu-chan,” Izaya allows, his voice sounding a little bit stronger than it has all day.

 

Shizuo feels a rush of air leave his lungs. “Oh thank god. I would never make it home this way.”

 

“You would never even make it downstairs,” Izaya says, the smirk evident in his voice. “Namie would have to drag you out with the trash tomorrow morning.”

 

And fuck, there it is—the reminder that tomorrow is Monday, and Shizuo has to go to work, and what if he’s actually still this fucking hungover? He’s honestly not sure how he’s going to get home tonight, and he wonders if he has enough cash for a cab, because there’s no way he can walk or even take the train, probably.

 

“Doubt Namie could drag me down the stairs.”

 

“Currently you can’t drag yourself down the stairs,” Izaya teases, voice still weak.

 

“I’m about to throw you down the stairs,” Shizuo bites back, and Izaya actually laughs and then groans.

 

“Don’t tease me right now, Shizu-chan. That’s mean. I’m hungover.”

 

Shizuo lets out a short laugh. “I’m pretty sure you might still be drunk.”

 

“Go to sleep,” Izaya insists, the abrupt subject change telling Shizuo that he’s probably too exhausted and sick to come up with a good response. Shizuo is secretly relieved, but he just turns over into his side and pulls Izaya into his chest.

 

“Yeah, Izaya-kun. Let’s go back to sleep.”

 

It takes a little while, his thoughts spinning around for a bit, but finally Izaya’s breaths lull Shizuo into a restful sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Izaya is fucking _out_ the next time Shizuo wakes up. It’s almost 8:00 p.m. now, and Shizuo sits up and yawns and stretches and almost doesn’t feel like he’s dying anymore. He’s okay enough to stand up, at least, and he thinks he can even make it downstairs if he moves slowly and tries not to get too disoriented.

 

As soon as he’s in the kitchen, Shizuo gets himself a glass of water and forces himself to sip it slowly. He opens cupboards until he finds Izaya’s rice cooker and then searches until he finds rice to go with it; Izaya’s cupboards are really fucking bare, and Shizuo vaguely wonders what Izaya eats on a regular basis. But then he remembers the conversation on the bathroom floor earlier, and he kind of wonders if Izaya eats on a regular basis at all.

 

He figures the rice will take maybe 15 minutes to cook, and after Shizuo has set the whole thing up and set it to cook, he walks out into the living room and lets himself fall onto the couch. He wants to go up and check on Izaya, but he’s exhausted his strength too badly to make the trek back upstairs without a little bit of rest.

 

He must doze off, because when he opens his eyes and stumbles back into the kitchen with a yawn, the rice is already done, the plain but enticing aroma making Shizuo’s stomach growl a little bit.

 

There’s no sign of Izaya, so Shizuo assumes he’s still asleep. He finds bowls in a cupboard and dishes up two portions of rice, frowning a little at how plain it’s going to taste, but then there’s no way either of them can handle anything beyond something this simple, so Shizuo grabs chopsticks out of a drawer and carries the bowls and the silverware up to Izaya’s bedroom.

 

Izaya is just rubbing his eyes and pushing himself up to a seated position as Shizuo walks through the door, and the blond can’t help but smile at the sleepy look in Izaya’s face, his pallor finally less pale, his eyes half-lidded as he rubs one with a small fist. He looks at least as adorable as he did a waking up a couple weeks ago at Shizuo’s apartment, and the feeling that wells up in Shizuo’s chest is satisfied and happy, a little bit possessive when he notices a few leftover bruises scattered across Izaya’s neck and chest, proof of Shizuo’s claim to the pale skin.

 

“I made rice,” Shizuo says, setting the bowls on the nightstand and sitting down to situate himself against the headboard. Izaya is sitting up but he’s swaying a little, so Shizuo reaches out a hand to steady his shoulder and pull him up against the wall. Izaya scoots up next to him so they’re sitting side by side, letting his head drop onto Shizuo’s shoulder and sighing out a contented sound.

 

“Feeling better?” Shizuo asks, reaching for the bowls of rice and handing one to Izaya. Izaya nods into Shizuo’s shoulder, quiet just like he always is after waking up from a deep sleep.

 

And isn’t it something that Shizuo even knows that. Isn’t it something that they’re here, in Izaya’s too-big-for-one-person bed in his too-big-for-one-person apartment, suffering through a hangover together and cuddling up while they eat rice and drink water and try to feel better. Isn’t it something that Shizuo never wants to leave, that he thinks feeling like absolute shit was a fair price to pay if it meant spending the day snuggled here with Izaya and getting to see him at his most vulnerable. He wraps an arm around Izaya and presses a kiss to his forehead in between bites of rice.

 

When they’re both as full of rice as they can manage, Shizuo sets the bowls on the nightstand and waits for Izaya to sit back up, to curl up facing away from him and insist that Shizuo has to leave, but Izaya just keeps his head on Shizuo’s shoulder and doesn’t say anything.

 

“Izaya? You asleep?” Shizuo whispers, his head clearer now that he’s had some food and water. The hangover isn’t quite gone, but he’ll be able to make it home just fine, even if the thought of his empty apartment doesn’t really seem very enticing all of a sudden.

 

“No,” comes Izaya’s reply as he shifts a little where he’s pressed up against Shizuo.

 

Shizuo bites his lip. Better to do the hard part himself, he guesses. “I should probably go,” he forces out, his heart feeling like it’s dropping a little bit at the thought.

 

Izaya shifts away from Shizuo on the bed slowly, but Shizuo isn’t sure if the careful pacing is due to reluctance to stop cuddling with Shizuo or just a desire to keep potential nausea at bay. “Yeah, I mean, I did say you could only stay until 3:00. It’s, what, 8:30 by now? 9:00?”

 

Shizuo looks at the clock. “8:45, yeah.” He takes a breath and stands up, stretching and feeling a little bit less like he got hit by a bus. He yawns and turns to look at Izaya, suddenly realizing that he’s not tired, and he actually feels kind of okay, and he really needs a shower, actually, but first he’ll have to walk all the way home, and fuck, he doesn’t fucking want to leave.

 

“You’re okay, right?” Shizuo can’t help but ask as he heads towards the bathroom to search for his clothes, which he realizes are still somewhere on the floor near the shower from where he had dropped them last night.

 

Izaya doesn’t respond until Shizuo has already collected his clothes and is back in the bedroom, his pants and shirt all tangled together in his arms.

 

“I’m okay,” Izaya says, looking all of a sudden strangely vacant, lost.

 

Shizuo starts pulling on his pants, feeling the bulge of a pack of cigarettes in his pocket and suddenly really fucking craving one. He keeps his eyes carefully downcast so he doesn’t have to see the way Izaya is already turning away from him to lie down and face the wall. “You should go back to sleep,” Shizuo says. “But I know you probably won’t, right?” Shizuo knows Izaya has trouble sleeping, even sometimes when Shizuo has coaxed three orgasms out of him in the few hours preceding bedtime.

 

Izaya turns his head to gaze at Shizuo, but Shizuo wonders if Izaya is seeing him at all. “No, I’m not tired. We slept all day, remember?” He’s not even teasing, really, and it makes Shizuo frown.

 

Shizuo tugs his shirt over his head and ruffles a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Fuck, I feel like I’m still gonna be hungover tomorrow. Tom-san will be disappointed. And I really fucking need a cigarette.”

 

Izaya actually cracks a grin. “Tom-san will laugh at you, Shizu-chan. Especially if you show up to work looking like that.”

 

Shizuo scowls. “I’m not going to—I’m going to take a shower when I get home, Izaya-kun,” he bites out, a little harsher than usual, the craving for a cigarette making him crankier than he probably should be.

 

Izaya looks suddenly seductive, but he’s still pale and hungover so it doesn’t work the way he probably wants it to (although that’s not to say it doesn’t work at all, because fuck, Izaya’s exhausted attempt at flirting is actually kind of working, even if it really just makes Shizuo want to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until he feels completely better and they can go back to their usual fighting-fucking-smirking-laughing—fuck).

 

“You could shower here,” Izaya says, sitting up and sliding to the edge of the bed. “Or I could always bathe you,” he suggests, getting gracefully to his feet to snag the hem of Shizuo’s t-shirt and tug the blond a little bit closer.

 

Shizuo rolls his eyes. “Shut up, flea. You’re not gonna bathe me.”

 

Izaya leans up to nip at Shizuo’s earlobe and gust hot breath against his neck. “Only because you won’t let me.”

 

Shizuo closes his eyes and savors the feeling of Izaya all pressed up against him, pulling him close and tugging him towards the bed even in his hungover state. Shizuo presses a kiss to Izaya’s lips, the crush of his mouth meant to inspire heat and lusty passion. But they’re both still hungover, and way too hungover for this, and somehow the kiss turns from near-bruising to slow, tangled tongues, each taking deep breaths every few second when they break apart to look at each other with half-lidded, hangover-hazy eyes.

 

“Take a bath with me,” Izaya says, and for once it’s almost a question, a request, instead of a command. “Have your cigarette first; I don’t care.”

 

Shizuo lets his eyes drift closed and presses his forehead to Izaya’s. “Yes,” he says simply, his mouth claiming Izaya’s one last time before he lets the other go to tug his shirt and pants back off. Izaya is already walking into the bathroom and turning on the tap, sliding out of his boxers, looking almost fondly through the doorway to make eye contact with Shizuo. Shizuo takes the glass off the nightstand into the bathroom and lights a cigarette, the burn of nicotine shooting through his veins making him almost dizzy with relief. They stare at each other for a second, each just taking the other in, and then Izaya says over the rush of water filling the tub, “You know, I’m going to kick you out at, like, 3:00 in the morning now.” There’s a grin playing on his lips.

 

“Who says I’m staying that long, hmm?” Shizuo teases, sliding up to wrap his arms around Izaya’s waist and press a kiss to his cheek. It’s too sweet for them, of course it is, but it’s been a long day. Izaya deserves some sweet in his life, Shizuo thinks. He takes a drag and lets it out above Izaya’s head.

 

“You’ll stay,” Izaya says, pressing in closer to Shizuo.

 

“I’ll stay,” Shizuo agrees. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes. “Ew, such a romantic, Shizu-chan. How is it even possible that you don’t have a girlfriend, huh?”

 

Shizuo holds Izaya a little tighter. Part of him wants to retaliate that Izaya doesn’t have one either, that he never has. But instead, Shizuo only shakes his head and laughs.

 

“I don’t want a girlfriend,” Shizuo says, voice soft and pitched low despite the rush of water next to them.

 

Izaya just looks at him, and in the bath they stare at the ceiling and joke around looking for animals and silly faces in the texturing, and then later Izaya snatches the second cigarette Shizuo lights to steal a drag and release it with a seductive look. They climb into bed and fall asleep again all tangled together, and in the morning Shizuo leaves, and everything feels irrevocably different.


End file.
